


Heart-rend

by meverri



Series: TMA Femslash Week 2019.5 [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meverri/pseuds/meverri
Summary: Basira and Melanie deal with their grief and anger after the Unknowing. (Day 3: Hurt/Comfort)
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner (past), Basira Hussain/Melanie King
Series: TMA Femslash Week 2019.5 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586128
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: The Magnus Archives Femslash Week 2019.5





	Heart-rend

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @hundred-separate-lines :)

Basira drifts in the days after the Unknowing. Time moves around her like water – one moment, she’s waking up alone, the next she’s sitting at her desk, and the next brings Martin, looking lost and confused, reminding her that she needs her rest. She ignores the tea he brings her; he pretends she needs his care. It works for them.

Melanie is angry, most of the time, but she likes to come and sit with Basira. The two of them don’t speak much, except when Melanie asks Basira to hand her another file or two, and Basira likes it that way. She doesn’t really want to speak, anymore. Doesn’t want to do much of anything. Grief hangs heavy in the archives, and she’s content to just sit in it for a time, to let herself be suffocated by it. Maybe it will bring her back to Daisy.

That’s a luxury they cannot afford. It isn’t long before the first attacks come – subtle, at first, like the lightbulbs going out in Jon’s old office, and then vicious, like the explosion of blood and flesh through the rows of shelving. Basira spends a week scrubbing pink matter off the floor, rubbing at it with a brush until her hands get so dry that they crack and bleed, and then she methodically copies the ruined statements to new paper, gives them to Martin for recording, and goes back to sitting at her desk and waiting for an attack.

That’s what she’s doing when she hears the crash and the scream – high, keening, angry, a wounded-animal howl that makes her heart pound out _Daisy, Daisy, Daisy_. She pushes that down – _Daisy is dead_ , she reminds herself, and chokes a bit – and goes to investigate, a pistol in one hand, the other curled into a fist. 

She finds Melanie in the bathroom, surrounded by the shattered remains of the mirror. It reflects their faces in fragmented pieces, a thousand eyes blinking back up at them, so Basira makes sure to crush several pieces below her heels as she makes her way to where Melanie is standing, punching the bathroom wall again and again and again. Her hand is bleeding. Basira opens the cupboard below the sink and pulls out the first aid kit Martin had hidden years ago, and that Basira had catalogued along with all eighteen of the others. It’s useful intel, knowing where they all are, along with the location of every remaining CO2 canister, knife, and exit. She runs through the list in her mind when her thoughts begin to stray.

Melanie lets out another roar, giving the wall a kick, and begins to stomp at the slivers of reflective glass around her. She runs a bloody hand through her hair and pulls, eyes wide. Basira takes a quiet step forward and stays low, trying not to spook Melanie. A tear rolls down Melanie’s cheek as she lets out a grunt of pain and slides down to the floor, making herself smaller than Basira can bear.

Basira kneels down next to her, careful to avoid the broken shards of glass, and gently reaches for her hand. Melanie glares at her, defiant, so Basira rolls her eyes and tugs Melanie’s hand into her lap. Melanie glowers as Basira cleans the wounds, quickly and efficiently, and then begins to peel off band-aids and stick them to her bloody knuckles. She lets out a small, pained noise, once, and Basira squeezes her hand as gently as she can. When she’s finished, she pulls Melanie down with her as she sits. Melanie stretches her legs out and rests her head on Basira’s shoulder. Her hair tickles Basira’s nose.

Melanie’s hands are crisscrossed with scars. This isn’t the first time Basira has found her like this, bloody-knuckled and raging, but it’s the first time Melanie has let Basira wrap her hand in bandages and then just sit there beside her, still holding her hand. Melanie curls her fingers in, slightly, and lets out a frustrated huff that turns into a low growl, which she bites off as she tears her hand away from Basira.

Basira flinches. It’s a sound Daisy used to make, sometimes, when she was frustrated that a case was going cold before their eyes, or that she had burned dinner, or, on one memorable occasion, that their Ikea bookshelf was missing a screw. She’s not scared of Melanie – had hardly ever been scared of Daisy, and Melanie’s a lot more manageable, and she can hold her own, anyway – but the sound is just another of the thousand daily reminders that Daisy is gone and there’s nothing Basira can do about it.

Melanie takes a couple of deep breaths, clutching at her own bandaged hand, and then lets out a small hiccupping sob. Basira closes her eyes and leans her head back against the wall and breathes in and out and in again. 

“Sorry,” Melanie mutters. “Sorry.”

Basira sighs, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move as Melanie sits up slowly, hooking a finger in Basira’s sleeve. She doesn’t say anything as Melanie pulls Basira’s hand back into hers and weaves her stiff fingers in between Basira’s. She doesn’t say anything as Melanie presses a cheek to the spot on her chin where a tear threatens to drip onto her jacket. She just sits back up and turns to Melanie, eyes still closed, and lets Melanie kiss her, slow and deep and sad.

Kissing Melanie is easy. Basira’s done it a few times, now, and with Melanie’s anger, with the way she bites at Basira’s lower lip, it’s easy to imagine that Daisy’s back. Melanie smells different – floral, where Daisy smelled like pine and soil and sweat – and she’s too hesitant, in the end, but that’s all right. Melanie nips at her, a bit of that growling anger coming back, and Basira closes her eyes and pretends.


End file.
